Scorching sun, madness is growing near alone, desperate, he tries to survive
Death he left behind, the great war he escaped but little did he know that even worse was luring ahead
DAGON!
Suddenly black shores surrounded him fortune oh fortune
But he knew at once that the stench of rotten fish would linger in his memories forever
Then he feels a foolish pride thinks he discovered an ancient tribe he sees an altar with a globe

Witness of cults unseen before dreams of wealth they'd soon be torn when he encounters the great Dagon
Reaching out to look closer what does he see in the blackness of the mud?
A figure moving closer, breathing, drooling fierce eyes are longing for his blood
He shudders even years later when he closes his eyes
He runs black mud becomes water again he returns home
Morphine! wishing he had died by the war